Page 60 of Power
“Yep. Emily and I both went. It was a tiny, one-bedroom apartment with one bathroom. She made a home-cooked meal. I’ll tell you what, I had never eaten so much in my life. Emily inhaled the pumpkin and potatoes like no one’s business. Then, when we were about to leave, Tash asked me why I was checking on Emily outside work.”
“What did you tell her?”
“She caught me out on the spot, and I said because we’re homeless and living in my car. Tash shook her head and said we were no longer homeless, because Emily’s and my new address was her apartment.”
“The three of you lived together.”
“Yes, we did. For a long while. Tash worked from home doing accounting and bookkeeping, so she’d watch Emily for me so I could work. Tash has always been a gift from the universe.” I smile with warmth.
“How did you go from working at a coffee shop, to being an escort?” Bennett asks, still quite vested in my story.
“There was a woman who came in on certain days. Monday through Thursday, and she had to be one of the most beautiful women I’d ever laid eyes on. I noticed the way she’d talk, how she did her makeup and hair. She was out-of-this-world classy and elegant.”
Bennett scrunches his forehead trying to see the connection with my description of her and where I ended up. “I’m following,” he says slowly as if he’s missed the link.
“She was a regular, but quite reserved. I mean, she always spoke eloquently but she never made small talk or anything like that.”
“Okay.” Bennett lowers his eyes and looks at the mug.
“I began to emulate her. I’d study her walk and the way she carried herself. I looked at her makeup without looking like some kind of freaky crazy stalker person, and tried to replicate it. I even paid attention to the way she styled her hair, and the next day I’d try that style.” Bennett lifts his coffee mug and notices it’s now empty, so he places it on the table again. “She’d walk in with her shoulders pulled back like she was the most important person in the room, and she’d often get stares because of her magnetic presence. And I wanted that. Not for the attention, but because she honestly appeared to have her entire life together. She was confident without being cocky. She was sensual without being gaudy. She simply was breathtaking in every sense of the word.”
“You paint a perfect portrait.”
“One day, I think she noticed. And she asked me if I was copying her. I was mortified because here I was, seventeen at this stage, trying to be this woman whom I only knew by her order, which was always the same. I remember being so embarrassed and I apologized and promised I’d never do that again. She asked me why I was trying to copy her, and I told her because it made me feel powerful and beautiful.”
“Did it make you feel powerful and beautiful?”
“Absolutely. I felt in control and like I was untouchable.”
“How did she respond?” Bennett leans back against the chair and lifts his arm to lean on the back part.
“She asked me how old I was, and that was the first time I actually told the truth. But, that was it. She didn’t say much more. She continued coming in, and she started giving me tips. She’d say things like, ‘When you’re speaking to a person lift your chin and look them in the eye.’”
“Why?”
I snicker. “I’ll get to that part. This went on for a few months, then she asked me to have coffee with her one day. I said yes. She told me she’d pick me up after work, and she’d take me for coffee to a place she knew. I thought that was weird, because I worked in a coffee shop, and she always frequented it. But anyway, she met me at the coffee shop, and we walked over to her car. I nearly died. She was driving a Porsche, and it was just as pristine as she was!”
“Did she trick you into this lifestyle by flaunting her wealth at you?”
I shake my head. “She didn’t need to trick me into anything. She asked me if I ever had sex before, and I told her how I have a two-year-old daughter. She explained that she was a madam and ran an escort service for clients with money. She told me how I fitted the image she has for her escorts, and asked if I wanted a job. I earned from my first client what I did at the coffee house for two weeks’ work.”
“How could you go back into that line of work with all the trauma you had from past experiences?”
“Careful Mr. President, your ignorance is showing,” I say as I stand and stretch my arms over my head. “I had a daughter I needed to feed, and earning four dollars an hour would keep us way below the poverty line. I had very little education, even fewer career prospects, and a child.”
“But...”
“Don’t you dare say anything about ‘respectable jobs’ when you know there’s a demand for what I do. Or do you forget how we met, Mr. President?”
“You’re right. It is hypocritical of me to judge you for the choices you had to make. I apologize. You did what you had to do in order to make a better life for you and your daughter. But...” His jaw clenches as he stares at nothing. “I saw your tax returns, and you yourself said you earned more than that. You have a property portfolio. Why would you continue to be an escort when you’ve clearly earned enough to set yourself up for the rest of your life?”
“I love sex,” I reply earnestly. “And money.”
His eyes widen and he tips his head to the side. “But you’ve come from so much trauma around sex.”
“Yes, I have. Thankfully, I found a wonderful therapist who’s been helping me through it all. I’ve been seeing him for years, and I’ve come to realize that I’m not a product of my experiences. I’m so much more than that. I could’ve stayed on the streets, selling myself for next to nothing, but I decided what I’m worth. If a man wants my company, he’s going to have to pay me well for it.”
“You’re a breath of fresh air, Reece. It’s confusing to me, because I find you wildly attractive, and incredibly determined for being able to turn your life around the way you have. But I have to be honest and tell you how much I despise the fact you used to sell your body.”
